


And In The End

by trynabcalm



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Baking, F/F, Fangirls, First Meeting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Genderbending, Holding Hands, I Don't Even Know, Ice Cream, Interviews, John's Jesus Comment, Johns kinda possessive, M/M, McLennon, Minor Original Character(s), Old people are for some reason more accepting?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Display of Affection, Shooting Star, Slow Build, Smut, Tried To Write Fluff, Wish Fulfillment, Wishes, biscuits - Freeform, idk man, impulsive john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trynabcalm/pseuds/trynabcalm
Summary: Just one shots.If you have requests and stuff then I’ll try my best to write them





	1. I Want To Hold Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:
> 
> 1) All of these are works of fiction (unfortunately).
> 
> 2) just tryna get some writing practice
> 
> 3) I subconsciously stereotype my characters and I'm really trying to stop that.
> 
> 4) I'm awful with updating on time and I hate editing so there will be coowntles misstaykes, sori
> 
> 5) my later chapters will be longer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from I Want To Hold Your Hand, Meet The Beatles

The day had started off terribly.

Both boys were lying on the ground in a heap of pillows, blankets and limbs. It wasn't hard to see that John and Paul were stunned at the situation.

 

“What the flippin hell happened ‘ere?!” John, using his right hand, rubbed his eyes. 

“For fucks sake get off me,John!” Paul, who had unfortunately been at the bottom of the pile, shoved the older lad off him. 

 

This, much to their confusion, only flipped their positions

Paul pushed himself off of Johns chest to find that their hands were connected with a pair of silver metal handcuffs. 

 

“Well isn't this kinky…” John muttered, a playful smirk on his lips while sending a wink at Paul who was very deep in thought. 

“ firstly”  Paul thought to himself “ it must have been some stupid drunken shenanigan because of this ducking headache” .

The bassist looked back at the bed he and John had shared. “ I must have rolled over and tugged his hand, sending us tumblin’ or summat"

 

“Pauuuul for fucks sake, answer me, will you!” Johns nasally voice pulled him back to the present 

 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” 

 

John huffed childishly before replying

“I said, it must have been a dare from last night but i can't remember a single thing.”

 

“Yeah, must of been. I say we find Brian and get it sorted out” Paul held out his free hand for John to help him up. 

 

“Brian!? As in our manager whos going to have our heads for getting ourselves into this mess?!” the auburn haired lad swiped his finger across his neck. Unknowingly, it was the hand connected to Paul's thus having the latter's hand go flying into Johns face. 

 

“For fucks sake! That bloody hurt!” Once able to see again John quickly shut up his whining. 

Paul had his eyes tightly squeezed shut, lip harshly bitten down upon and his slender fingers rubbing his wrist gently. Along the pale skin, a dark red line that was undoubtedly going to turn black and blue wrapped around his wrist. There were even specks of blood from the night before and the events beginning that morning. 

 

“Fuck, Macca, Im sorry! Shit, do you think we'll be able to slip it off?” With a rare carefulness,John cradled Paul's injured wrist in his own hands, sometimes blowing down to cool off the area. 

A small, fond smile grew on Paul's face, seeing this new side of John. 

 

“Its ok, really!”

 

John said nothing but raised a questioning eyebrow back

 

“Well, lets clean it up a bit then i've got a perfect temporary solution”

 

Now it was Paul's turn to raise an already impossibly arched brow.

 

“And that would be…?”

 

John grinned and slipped his chained hand into Paul's. His fingers intertwined with the others. It was warm yet still made a shiver race up Paul's spine. 

 

“Is that alright?” John whispered

 

Paul could sense the insecurity in John's voice although he knew John would never admit to it. So to comfort him, he threw sensibility out of the window and raised their connected hand to his lips. Pauls eyelashes first brushed against John's hand but once those plump lips met his skin, John knew he was a goner. 

 

“It's perfect” 

 

* * *

 


	2. Fussing and Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are still short and not very well written but please persevere and I swear upon me life that it'll get better. 
> 
> Title from We Can Work It Out, Rubber Soul

 “So, do you find the need to draw impressionable children into taking drugs and sin rather than following their faith?” 

 

John sucked in a sharp breath. This was the upteenth question asked about his stupid Jesus comment. Looking out the corner of his eye, John could see George picking at his suit and Ringo drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the table. This was meant to be a Beatles interview but it seemed more like a John-and-maybe-paul-sometimes interview. No matter how many times John tried to defend and justify himself, all his attempts were lost on the stubborn american reporters. If he knew that it would come to this, John wouldn't have said anything. To be honest, John sometimes wished he never made it big. Sure, there were many things that made it worthwhile but many that just made the lad want to slam his head down and forget about everything. 

 

That was until he felt Paul's hand placed gently on his thigh. 

 

“Of course we are not promoting anything but our music and its the idiots that end up mixing and mudlin up our words that have the need to cause unnecessary conflict.” 

 

Mummers erupted throughout the hall. John couldn't help but feel as if Paul made things slightly worse but having those doe eyes set in determination, challenging the interviewers, only made adoration flutter in his chest. This beautiful lad was there, still at his side after all these hard years, still loving him. John tried to hide his smile as he put his hand on top of Paul's, making a light blush spread on Paul's cheeks. They caught each others eyes and both suddenly forgot about their situation. 

 

“What do you think of the rumours about your sexuality? Are you and Paul in a homosexual relationship?” 

 

George, who had been taking a gulp from his glass of water, choked at the question and Ringo had to help sort him out. Paul rolled his eyes but this time John believed it was his turn to answer. 

 

“Why does it matter to you? Does it affect the music? Will we be talking about music at all?!” John glared at the reporters 

 

“John and I are not in a relationship. We’re both strictly professional, absolutely no time for love.” 

  
  


More stupid questions about their relationships majority directed at the lennon-mccartney partnership, one or two at George and Ringo about living with two “raging queers” which the drummer and guitarist just scoffed at. 

It was a battle. But John knew if he had Paul at his side, it would end up tolerable. 

Brian quickly whisked the band out of the hall before a world war began. Behind a wall, where their instruments lay, John pulled Paul by his waist to spend at least a moment alone together. 

 

“Hi” Pauls lips quickly met Johns. 

 

“Hey” John gently nipped at Paul's bottom lip, alternating between sucking and biting at it. Once Paul allowed its entry, Johns tongue quickly met with Pauls. John had his arms beside Pauls head, resting on his forearms while Paul slipped his fingers through Johns belt loops, pulling him flush against his own waist. 

A groan echoed from Johns mouth but was swallowed by Paul.

 

“y-you did good today…” John breathed out, as Pauls kisses trailed along his jaw and down his neck. 

 

The younger lad just hummed in reply while licking a stripe down Johns neck before settling on suckling the small crook where Paul knew John would become undone. 

But before the lovers could advance into anything more explicit, their actions were interrupted by a voice from behind the wall

 

“And ye wonder why people call ye raging queers! You both really needa work on the whole subtlety thing!” John could hear the exasperation in George's voice and the auburn lad couldn't help but let out a chuckle. 

 

“Alright, alright give us a mo’.  Just let me pull me cock out of Paul's arse and we'll be out!” John called back, laughing at Paul who punched Johns shoulder and at the stifled scream that came from George. 

 

“You're daft!” Paul cried out, a grin on his face

 

“Yeah, but you love it”


	3. I saw a film today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Day In The Life, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

John was frustrated to say the least. He was frustrated because the film had a cliche plot. He was frustrated that Paul was completely absorbed in the film. He was frustrated because of the fucking boner that decided to pop up halfway through the movie. He watched Paul who was staring at the moving picture, lips parted slightly. It was completely dark apart from the light that was emitted from the screen. The light emitted from the scene cast shadows over Paul's face. From John's angle, he got the perfect side profile of his lover. Normally, John would be perfectly content with just gazing endearingly but now with his dick almost completely hard, John could only think of those sweet lips that were quietly munching on popcorn, giving him a blowjob. 

 

“Lets get outta h-”

 

“Shhh” Paul placed his hand sloppily on Johns face, trying to cover his mouth. It didn't help John's horniness when Paul’s fingers ran over his thin lips, slipping down his face to land back on the armrest. 

 

“Come on paulie. The film's utter shit and my dicks about to burst.”

 

“John!” 

 

Angry mummers echoed around the surrounding movie-goers making Paul shut his mouth quickly. 

More quietly this time, Paul hissed “we can't. We payed a quid for these tickets.” 

Even though Paul couldn't see it, John rolled his eyes

 

“You mean  I  payed two quid for these tickets because you begged me with puppy dog eyes.”

 

Paul looked down and grinned, remembering how conflicted John had looked when Paul had dropped to his knees and begged for John to take him to see the film. 

 

“Stop it…”

 

Paul looked up and at John questionably and innocently, having a tiny idea what was coming next. “Stop what?”

 

“Looking so perfectly fuckable” 

 

“No can do, love. If you're patient, you’ll be rewarded” Paul whispered, chuckling to himself.

 

John shut up quickly but soon:

 

“Paul? Pa-”

 

Paul sighed

 

“What d'ya want?”

 

“Anythi-oh fuck…” 

 

Paul placed his hand on the tent in John's drainies. Starting off slowly and lightly, Paul palmed his lover through his clothes. 

 

“Now you listen here, Johnny. If you make a peep ill stop and you can be making love to your right hand for the next month, clear?”

 

Barely stifling a moan, john replied “crystal”

 

Paul teasingly slow, torturingly unrushed,unzipped John's zipper, and unbuckled his belt. The sound of the metal clinking was more arousing than it should have been but the coolness of Paul’s fingers slipping into the Johns waistband and brushing past the coarse hair was next level. The slender digits wrapped around Johns throbbing dick and very gently started moving up and down his shaft. Once in a while, Paul’s finger would rub over Johns leaking tip, spreading the precum over to use as a sort of lubricant. 

 

It took a lot out of John to stay quiet and the build up of tension in his abdomen was the cherry on the top. 

 

“ ‘M close…” john breathed out, causing paul to smirk smugly. It made him real chuffed to have John Lennon becoming totally debauched just with the use of one hand. 

 

It was just a wank but John was quivering in his seat, hands gripping the cushioned armrests. The movement in his jeans quickened and John was forced to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood, just so the other people wouldn’t hear him moaning like a pornstar.

 

“Shhh” Paul sped up his movements,  squeezing harder, rubbing faster and before long, john was sucking in a sharp breath and releasing over Paul's hands. John dropped his head back and used a hand to wipe his sweaty curls off his face. His jeans were definitely soiled but the ecstasy of orgasming still hadn’t ' worn off enough for John to think about consequences. 

 

“Fuck…i love you” he muttered, just loud enough for Paul to hear. 

 

“I know.”

 

Paul pulled his hand out from the heat of Johns thighs and put a finger in his mouth, licking clean the spunk. John watched, in complete awe, as Paul's finger came out clean with a pop. His flaccid dick twitched at the sight. 

It was then when John realised that the credits were rolling and the people were starting to leave. Paul leapt up and brushed himself off and giving John a grin. 

 

“Now that's done, id quite like to see how you explain why you creamed your pants in the cinema” 

 

John looked down and noticed the large mark his jizz had created. 

 

“Fuck me!” he groaned 

 

And over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the hall, Paul answered “maybe when we get home”


	4. Come Go With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing I’m like hey bruh this is some good shit. But reading over it makes me feel absolutely embarrassed
> 
> Title from Come Go With Me by the Del-Vikings

“I'll bring me mate, Paul. Hes brilliant. Like a kid elvis!”

 

“Hey, lets not get ahead of ourselves here. You bring him to the fete and we'll see how good the lad is.” 

 

John, surrounded with the other members of the Quarrymen, watched as Ivan grinned and ran off excitedly. John was tired of getting nowhere with the band. It was obvious that none of the other boys took this as seriously as himself but he wasn’t desperate enough for some kid to join. He heard of Paul many times before, hanging with Ivan always consisted of “Paul this” “Paul that” but he’d never met him in person. 

***

“Paul! I’ve told y’bout the Quarrymen, haven’t I?”

 

Paul laughed but couldn’t help having his eyes rolled.

 

“Almost every time we talk, y'always bring em up” 

 

Ivan stopped walking and placed his hands roughly on Paul’s shoulders, shoving him so they face each other. “Look son, I’ve gotten you an audition. Just bring ye guitar tomorrow. I’ll come calling and we can go together.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Ive. But who says i even want to be in the band?!”

 

It was Ivan's turn to roll his eyes. “Look, McCartney. I know how much you wanna get a band and become all big and famous. I can't keep up with that, y'know. The lads could”

 

That struck a nerve and Paul thought about it. This would be his chance. 

 

“Be round by noon else im going without ye”

 

With his guitar on his back and Ivan by his side, Paul strolled through the stalls and markets and towards the patio where different musicians were performing. 

At the moment, the band on stage consisted of a drummer who was playing much too loud and fast, a lad on a washboard and another on a piano which neither could be heard; lastly, a guitarist who had some potential but the chords played were banjo chords. The guitarist was also the singer, his voice was slightly nasally but apart from that, quite impressive. Well, it would have been impressive if he got the lyrics right. 

They were making music nonetheless and it was enough for Paul. 

 

The Del-Vikings’ Come Go With Me left the singer’s lips and filled the air with the the rock and roll hit. Paul had been wanting to buy the single but decided to buy the Elvis record he’d been eying. Paul couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face when the words “down down down to the penitentiary” were sung. 

 

“Paul, this is John Lennon. John, Paul McCartney.” Ivan introduced, letting the other lads introduce themselves. Paul was younger than the boys around him thus standing shorter than them too. 

 

“So, what did you think of the show?” The singer, John, asked, his eyes squinted slightly. 

 

Paul shrugged his shoulders “it was alright”.

 

The comment made a few of the boys scoff while John sucked his teeth for a second. 

 

“ _ Alright  _ then. Hurry up and show me summat.”

 

Paul hurriedly pulled his guitar out of his case and pulled the strap over his head. 

“It’s upside down, son” The washboarder, Pete, piped up making the band laugh while Paul ignored them. 

He placed his fingers on his desired chord and strummed

Paul hadn’t really practiced Twenty-Flight rock much, but it had already sounded rather professional. Any senses of nervousness vanished and Paul let the music overwhelm him. He didn’t notice the reactions of the boys but if he did he’d see Ivan grinning proudly, Pete and the others mouth hung open in awe and John, well, John looked captivated whether that was by the music or by Paul himself. 

“... _ Get to the top, I'm too tired to rock”  _

Paul opened his eyes and the other boys pulled themselves together. 

 

“So, what did you think?” A moment of silence

 

“Was alright…” John muttered, smirking. 

 

On the steps behind the church after a long day of messing about with Paul and ditching his band mates, John stretched his legs out, mindlessly plucking his guitar strings. He’d left the boys a while ago.

 

“Hey, where’ve you been?” 

 

John snapped out of his daze and looked towards the voice. Standing in the direction was Paul. His black leather jacket was under his arm which was expected as the summer heat was pretty strong. 

 

“Here.” 

 

Paul picked up John’s feet and moved them to make space for himself to sit. The smell of booze and smoke was concentrated around the older lad. They sat almost uncomfortably close but neither really didn’t seem to mind. 

 

“You’re missing out, back there.”

 

“Yeah?…” 

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothin’s the matter.” John built up his walls quickly shielding himself from the lad he’d only met several hours ago. Paul raised a brow, a knowing look on his face. 

And it only took that one look before John was spilling everything.

 

“I’m rubbish. The band’s getting nowhere. You saw them out there! I’ll be working at the docks soon enough, loading and unloading junk. But you? You’re going somewhere. You’ve got more talent in your toe than we’ve got combined!” 

 

“That’s not true, and you know it, John. So shut up about all that and realise that you are good. The crowd back there love ye!” 

 

John rolled his eyes

 

“No, I’m serious, Johnny! Look, plenty of room for improvement...you could learn the lyrics to the song for a chance…” Paul elbowed John’s side making the larger lad squirm. “And I could help ye with ye’ guitar. Teach you real chords y’know”

That perked John’s attention and Paul noticed. He leapt up in front of John. “Yeah. I could teach you and you’ll get real good and worst comes to worst, we can go off by ourselves, a duo or summat. Like the Everly Brothers!” 

 

John was pulled to his feet and had started warming up to the idea. 

 

“So what do you say, Johnny boy?”

 

John pretended to look deep in thought, his exaggeration of the thinking man’s statue caused Paul to burst out in laughter. 

 

“Well sir, I say: where we going”

 

Paul remembered his conversation with John early on in the day. 

 

“To the toppermost of the poppermost!”

 

The atmosphere fell a bit after that. Both boys collapsed on the stairs in comfortable silence. The tranquility dragged on long enough for the booze in John’s system to settle into sleepiness. His head lolled and rested upon Paul’s shoulder. The latter boy tensed up but gradually let his body relax. 

It wasn’t normal for two boys to be in this situation but it felt so... _ right _ . 

 

“Well wha’do we have ‘ere? A pair of queers!” 

 

The ruckus snapped John awake and Paul out of his daydreams. A few of the older boys from Liverpool Institute, smirked down on them. 

John leapt to his feet but swayed as if he was stood on a ship’s deck. Paul quickly caught Johns shoulders causing the other boys to burst out in laughter. 

 

“Yeah, better take care of ye boyfriend, McCartney!” 

 

“ ‘Es not me boyfriend” Paul clenched his fist. He wasn’t mad at the fact that he was calling them queer (which he should have been but wasn’t), he was mad at the fact that they were being made a fool of. And as far as he could tell, John wasn’t gay and neither was he. 

 

“Oops, Sorry lad. Di’nt know you were still in ye closet! Well ye little secrets safe with me, son. I won’t tell anyyyybood-“

 

Paul hated violence. He really did. His parents always discouraged it but he couldn’t help his fist from smashing into the older boy’s nose. 

The lad stumbled backwards, clutching his bloody face. 

 

“YOU FUCKIN’ FAG!” The not injured boy lunged at him but after throwing a few more punches and kicks (being at the receiving end of several punches himself), Paul was able to score an opportunity to grab John and make a run for it, dragging him away from the situation. 

 

John didn’t say much. Paul didn’t mention it knowing that the events had most likely wounded his pride and ego after being mostly helpless due to his state of mind. 

But it wasn’t that much longer before John piped up.

 

“So, Ye my guardian angel now?”

 

“I prefer super hero y’know”

 

“You’re not queer are you?” 

 

Paul’s breath hitched 

“No…”

 

“Oh...um...yeah. Neither am I…”

 

Their conversation ended abruptly but standing outside the house on Mendips, John sucked in a sharp breath and shut his eyes.

His hands were placed on either side of Paul’s face and hurriedly connected their lips. 

It was only for a second, not enough time for Paul to realise what was happening. John quickly let go and stepped back.

 

“Still straight?” He muttered

 

“I...um…” Paul couldn’t find the words to answer, resulting in John’s face falling. Then the auburn haired lad ran up the steps to the front door, quietly unlocking it and pushing it open. But before the door was shut and locked again, Paul gathered his wits, calling after him. 

 

“Maybe a little bent…?” 

 

John hesitated but opened the door a bit wider so Paul could see his glowing smile. 

 

“I’ll see ye round then, Macca. Band practice on Friday.”

 

“Aye. See ya, John”


	5. She thinks only of him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Baby's In Black, Beatles For Sale

Jane glared at the posters pasted on almost every wall of the small room. Buddy continued smiling, Elvis stayed stagnant and Chuck kept duck walking nowhere. Pauline barely lasted a minute without bringing up either 3 musicians. Don’t get her wrong, Jane adored the three men but sometimes, such as this occasion, she was devastatingly jealous of them. For years now, Jane has been absolutely and completely smitten with Pauline but the latter girl only had eyes for the celebrities on her wall. Not to mention the fact that it was illegal for both girls to get together (that’s saying Pauline would ever like her back). 

 

“Alright, let’s finish this.” Pauline emerged from the bathroom, wiping her hands on her blouse before picking up the guitar on the bed. 

 

That was how they met years ago. Jane was staring at the guitars in a small music shop when a girl and boy walked in. It seemed as if the lad was buying a guitar but when he had gone off with the shop assistant, the lass grabbed the guitar and began playing Twenty flight rock. Jane hadn’t seen many girls play the guitar and if she had, they wouldn’t be playing it in that style. Infatuated, Jane immediately made conversation with the girl after she had finished her little concert. Jane learnt that the girl’s name was Pauline and her brother, Mike, was buying a guitar. Pauline wasn’t allowed to have one but had said that she’d still ‘borrow’ it off her brother now and then. 

 

Pauline strummed the chords they had decided waiting for Jane to start singing. 

_ “Love, love me do. You know I love you”  _ Jane craved for Pauline to know that the words she was singing were absolutely genuine. After figuring out the rest of the song, Pauline called for another break and put the guitar back in Mike’s room. They lay on the bed on their backs, side by side, shoulders barely touching. 

 

“One day, we’ll be rich and famous. Just you wait Janey! We’ll be the lady version of the Everly Brothers.” Pauline stared longingly at the musicians causing Jane to roll her eyes. 

 

“Firstly, I’m definitely not good enough for that sort of thing. Secondly, you know you’ll never get a...a boyfriend if you keep pining for ‘em” Jane spat, nudging her head towards the walls 

 

“Firstly,” Pauline mocked Janes voice as she got up onto her elbows to stare down at the auburn girl, “you really are good enough. Secondly, I don’t pine after ‘em.”

 

Pauline lay back down again and turned her face away from Jane. 

 

“Plus...who said I even wanted a boyfriend.” The words were almost silent but Jane caught them. 

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah. I don’t love love them that way, y’know. I...well...I don’t love ‘em, I want to  _ be  _ them, y’know.” 

 

“What?!” Jane repeated.

 

“Oh shut up! I just wish I could be them…”

 

“But why? You’re fantastic! Do you know how many birds back at school would give up their soul to be you!”

 

Jane quickly shut up, scared that she would spill too much. 

 

“Yeah? Well, if I was those lads, it would be perfectly acceptable to do this,”

 

“Do wha-“ 

 

Jane’s question was cut short upon feeling Pauline’s lips against her own. It was chaste and remained ascetic for obvious reasons. The black haired girl pulled away leaving Jane wide eyed and speechless. 

 

“Y-you should probably go now…” Pauline got up from the bed, shielding  herself from Jane who sat motionless. 

 

“Can I stay?” 

 

Pauline whipped her head around, her luscious black tresses falling in her face. 

“Stay?! Why would you want to-oh…” 

 

Pauline's forlorn expression quickly morphed into thrill. She pounced back onto the bed and peppered Janes still shocked face with kisses. Gently, Pauline pushed Jane back so she ended up sliding down pillows to lay flat on the duvet, hair sprawled across, Pauline straddling her. 

This was everything Jane could ever dream of and more. There wasn't even an ounce of envy anymore. Why would she feel that way when she had the love of her life hovering over her. 

 


	6. I'm happy just to dance with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from I'm Happy Just To Dance With You, A Hard Day's Night

As part of their Duke of Edinburgh program, Paul and John helped with the entertainment in an old folks home. Earlier that month, Paul had organised the day with one of the ladies who founded the home. Her aunt was one of the residents there and had been requesting for a bit of fun so when Paul had offered a mini concert, the Ceo had jumped for the opportunity. 

As two 15 and 17 year old lads in 2019, they weren't expected to be looking forward to spending several days with people more than triple their ages, but oh boy they were ecstatic! Finally the lads would be able to have an audience who actually appreciated their idols like Buddy Holly, Little Richard and Elvis instead of the latest generic popstar. 

Every evening, after school they’d sit in Paul’s bedroom improving and figuring out the chords to the songs they wanted to perform. The day rolled round and Paul and John found themselves in the back of Jim McCartney’s car, racing down the motorway to the home. In the boot were their guitars, nestled snugly in their cases. 

Upon meeting the director, John let Paul, although younger, do most to all of the talking. They were brought to a large living room where comfy sofas and coffee tables lined the walls. And sitting on those chairs were their audience. Men and women with graying hair and wrinkly faces. 

Paul got on splendidly from the beginning. Somehow he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. On the other hand, John was tight-lipped and cautious, scare that his elders wouldn’t accept his witty remarks. But once he started talking to one of the men who used to be a sailor, well, John felt quite at home in the conversation. 

“Now, ladies and Gentlemen. You’ve gotten your time to get to know these lovely boys but now it’s time for the real show. 

 

Side by side on the stools, John watched as Paul played out the intro of their song. He could listen to the boy play the song over and over but it always felt as if he was listening to it for the first time. Then came the chords and singing and Paul had to nudge Johns foot to snap the older lad out of his daze. 

Now it was Paul’s turn to stare. John had a way of engaging the crowd. It felt as if everyone was hanging off every word he sang. Paul hated the way John would throw down his guitar during practice after messing up a chord, ranting about how he was awful at the instrument. Unfortunately, John couldn’t see how talented and special he was. He put up a big show about being the confident borderline cocky lad but Paul knew the insecurities lying beneath. They ran through the songs and when their set was over and the applause erupted, The two boys shared a look. This wasn’t their dream, to be honest, but it was a step closer to where they wanted to be. 

 

The older men and women came up to them to congratulate and praise them and John sat back, smiling endearingly as Paul brushed aside the compliments. The time flew by and it was time for the two lads to leave. 

 

The next week, John and Paul found their way back to the home for their next session. It became a routine for them to visit the home every saturday morning to complete their hours. Before and after their set, their time was spent on sharing glances and speaking highly of each other to their elderly fan base. 

 

It finally reached their last hours of their service section and upon arriving at the home, a small thank you party was about to take place. Many of the songs they covered were being played from an old vinyl player. Pairs of the residents, married or just friends, got up to dance. John had gone and danced with a few of the ladies that had been cooing over them while Paul sat with one lady he had seen but never talked to. He watched as all the couples swayed together, smiles adorning their faces. 

 

“Are you planning on dancing then?” The lady piped up. 

 

Paul furrowed his eyebrows, still smiling. 

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dance alone.”

 

“Then don’t.” She replied nonchalantly. 

 

Paul’s smile fell a little, confused by what she was meaning

 

“I don’t think I quite get what you’re tryna say...are you asking me to dance, I’d be hap-“

 

“No you git! I’m asking you to dance with him. Your boy: the Lennon one!”

 

“My boy?! No! Um...you’ve got tha-we’re just friends. We’re not-“

 

Paul’s face had gone beetroot red.

 

“Ah bless. Isn’t this how all those stories go?” the lady patted Paul’s hand endearingly. “I’m telling you lad, take the chance while you’ve got it. If my Joan didn’t come up to me, I wouldn’t be half the lass I am today.”

 

Paul shook his head, trying to make sense of what was being said.

 

“Your Joan?”

 

“Yes! Don’t make me repeat myself!  If you’re scared of anyone judging you then there’s nothing to be afraid of. Gareth over there used to be...what are they called? Drag queens? Robert and Thomas are partners, then of course there’s me.”

 

Paul’s mouth hung a gap not believing he’d ever be having a conversation remotely like this. 

 

“Well, if there was anything it’d wouldn’t be the fear of being judged by all of you lot but being judged by him.”

 

“Now don’t be daft, son! You surely must have noticed his looks,” seeing Paul’s confused face, she quickly followed up, “you haven’t! Goodness! There’s really nothing to be afraid of. Now go on, go on.” 

 

She quickly jostled Paul to get up. He longed to go sit down again, preferably somewhere other than the seat beside the lady but under the watchful stare, he begrudgingly shifted to where John was dancing madly. 

The taller lad grinned, still swing his arms and twisting his body. 

 

“Ah finally! I was wondering how long you’d be gossiping about me. Did she grill some confidence in you?”

 

“You heard?!”

 

Paul’s eyes widened and he bit his tongue hard. 

 

“Nah, not that much. Caught a lot of glances, though. It’s quite hard to act oblivious when you’ve got two people staring at ye.” John smirked 

 

Paul’s blush returned and soon his face, neck and ears were completely flushed. 

 

“Anyway, care to dance?” John offered his hand to Paul who stared, baffled. “You just going to look an leave me looking like an idiot or…?”

 

“I...um...ok.”

 

Paul slipped his hand into John’s cautiously, his only thought was that his hand would be all clammy and sweaty but if it was, John didn’t seem to notice. They stood far enough not to have their bodies to touch but still closer than what was platonically expected. 

 

“For fucks sake Paul, put your hand on my waist if you’re too stuck up to be a girl.” John grabbed Paul’s floating hand and pressed it against his side the followed up with putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder, mimicking the movements of those dancing around them. Gradually and after a couple of songs passed, their bodies subconsciously gravitated towards each other, they fell into rhythm and were soon moving like one. The awkward lack of appropriate conversation become comfortable silence. Every so often they reversed roles, each enjoying leading the dance yet also letting the other guide them.

They clung onto each other for the rest of the songs and when it came to their own set, their stools were placed a little closer so rather than having their knees knocking every so often, they rested against each other. But like all good times, the time passed quickly and soon they were standing at the door, guitars on their backs and pinky fingers fiddling with each other as they thanked the ceo. 

 

“Well, it’s been a pleasure to have you boys here. Oh, Paul, I saw you talking with my aunt? She can be a bit...bossy sometimes, I hope she didn’t bully you into doing anything for her.”

 

“Your aunt?” Paul’s grin widened while John smirked at the ground. “No, no. She was,” Paul looked at John “she was lovely.”

 

“Well that’s good. I hope you’ll come drop by for a visit sometime. Cheers” 


	7. In Spite Of All The Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda like this one
> 
> Title from In Spite Of All The Danger by The Quarrymen (technically)

“Hey-“

The door slammed shut right in John’s face. He knew he was a Persona non grata in Paul’s home but for the second time he knocked, then paused. He could easily here rustling not to mention the fact that Paul had literally just opened the door a few seconds ago. When he got no answer, John used his non-bandaged hand to rat out a beat on the wood. It must have annoyed the occupant inside because mid way through one of the patterns, the door swung open. Paul looked awful. Well obviously that was impossible but Paul looked tired and his eyes were red and puffy. He leaned against the half open door, his hand on his hip and his body blocking the gap. 

 

“Long time no see…” muttered John looking down at Paul’s bare feet. 

 

“Johnny-“

 

“Don’t ‘Johnny’ me, Paul! I’ve been stuck in a stupid hospital bed for the last 2 weeks and not even a word from you!” 

 

That wasn’t completely true, John sometimes woke up to see a bar of chocolate beside his bed, or his copy of Alice in wonderland or a sketchbook on his bedside table. He knew it was Paul’s doing but not once had he seen Paul’s face. 

 

“I couldn’t-“

 

“Oh right, sorry, must have been such an inconvenience to see, I don’t know, your boyfriend?, best friend? Band mate? In hospital. We might need to have a little chat to sort out what I actually mean to you.”

 

John was fuming, his stitches were making his head ache and all he really wanted was to curl up in bed, Paul wrapped around him. 

 

“Will you shut up for a second and let me speak!?” Paul hissed, his frown hanging prominently, eyes glistening. “I couldn’t- I can’t see you like this,” he gestured to the cast and the bruises “I’m sorry but do you know how hard it is seeing the one you love bleeding himself dry! For fucks sake, John, you never fucking learn! Can’t you get it through your head that your actions have consequences?! No, of course you don’t because once you’re back to health you go off and pick another fight.”

 

John’s anger turned into guilt and everything made much more sense but Paul wasn’t done. 

 

“You scare me, John! You’ve been scaring me since i was 15! How do I know when it’s your last fight?” 

 

To know that he was hurting Paul hurt John more than the multiple bruises scattering his chest. 

 

“Well, what if I had di- what if it was my last fight? You wouldn’t see me? Next time you’d see me would be my picture on a gravestone.” John replied. 

 

The points Paul made were understandable but still. 

A minute of silence went by as both imagined what would happen if John died, the vision in Paul’s head was one of a reoccurring nightmare. 

 

“It wasn’t really my fault this time.” John couldn’t look at Paul straight in the eyes but Paul was intrigued. “They were a bunch of perverted bastards. They were talking about what they’d do to ye. I couldn’t just sit there and let them go on fantasising about you! You’d do the same, I bet, if you were me!” 

 

John remembered the 3 older men sitting by the bar, pissed as fuck, staring lustily and licking their lips as Paul walked by. 

 

“I’d have walked away, John. Sure, I’d hate it but guess what, in the end I’ve got you. I’m the one going home to ye. Not them. Who cares what the idiots say?”

 

Paul’s posture loosened and became less defensive. 

 

“Yeah, Well…”

 

John let himself gravitate towards Paul. Gradually, Paul’s arms slowly opened to let John slide in. Once he was in the safe and calming hold, they both let out a sigh neither knew they were holding. Paul knowing that he was practically cradling his boyfriend on his front porch for anyone to see, he quickly pulled the older man inside. 

 

“It’s like your song. The old one. I’ll keep all the others from knocking on your door.” 

 

Paul smiled to himself. “In spite of all the danger.”

 

“Yeah, that one. Look, I can’t promise you that I’ll be well behaved and such but I’m gonna try. I’m gonna try to be good. Be good for you. You’ll still love me right paulie. In spite of all the danger. Spite all the heartache?”

 

“What a stupid question. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to"


	8. You Got Me Going Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Twist and Shout

  1. The whole group of them had gone out for ice lollies at the park. Liverpool were undergoing a black swan event: a heat spell (or the closest they’d come to a heat spell). So there they went. Seven boys leaping over shrubs, shoving shoulders and kicking pebbles across the path. The classic white van, blearing it’s twinkly tune sat on the edge of the pond, a short line of parents and grandparents lining up beside their excited kids. 



The rowdy bunch of teenagers created quite the ruckus while adults glared at them and ushered their children away from the leather clad, black drainpipes wearing lads in fear of having them influence the precious minds of their little ones. Pete had Eric in a headlock, Colin and Rod were comparing whose bird was a better shag and all the while Paul waited quietly, still new to the band. And of course, John watched him. 

Finally the group reached the front of the queue and were jostling each other to order first, four of them wanting 99 flakes, John and Len getting sherbets and Paul settling for a raspberry ice lolly. 

 

Once they had their icy treats, the lads were quick to greedily slurp them down, collapsing in the shade of a Grove of trees. But Paul, no, Paul sat there, all chubby cheeks and doe eyes, innocently sucking at his lolly without any rush, much to the dismay of John who had been fawning over Paul since they met a month ago. His tongue swirled and licked around the shiny pink cylinder. His head bobbed while his eyes drifted off mind filled with lyrics and melodies, occasionally slipping out of his mouth in a hum. And oh god! The feelings and emotions coursing through John’s body was insurmountable. How John longed to replace the lolly with something much hotter.

With a hooded eyes and sensual movements, Paul looked perfectly sinful.

 

It took great strength to tear his eyes from the lad, but John did so to look down and try to cover up the tent forming in his much too tight jeans. Christ what was he doing, getting a stiffy from watching his male best friend eat an ice cream. Settling on crossing his legs and placing a hand close enough to hide his boner but not touching. Obviously he didn't do so well as Pete smirked at him. 

 

“Sherbet that good,then?” he swiped his finger in the blue stuff from John’s cone then into his mouth. 

 

“Bugger off, Shotton” John growled, trying to erase the image of Paul withering on his bed, moaning in pleasure, from his mind. 

 

“Don't need to get he knickers in a twist, mate. Puberty don't last forever, you’ll be home to debaunch your Cynthia soon.” Pete elbowed his arm, which moved his hand which rubbed against his crotch. John could barely stifle a whimper but luckily for his dignity, Pete didn't hear nothing. If his...situation… wasn't so severely intense, he probably would of socked Pete in his gob but moving wouldn't help his case.

Secondly, he had completely forgotten about Cyn. Since Paul joined the band, John spent more time with the younger lad than his girlfriend. John wished that Cynthia could turn him on like this, it would have made his life so much easier. 

 

It wasn't long before the ice creams, sherbets and lolly were devoured, Paul sucking the stickiness off his fingers with satisfying pops (making John want to slam his head onto the rough trunk of the tree). They strolled down the street, kicking pebbles and chatting. John trailed behind, limping slightly from the boner that didn’t seem to disappear no matter how much he thought of the biggest turn-offs. Then again, that could also be because John’s eyes wouldn’t stray from Paul’s arse, which, he could swear upon Elvis, was swaying more than usual but that could just be the hormones raging in his body talking. 

 

Every little thing he did was perfect. Absolutely stunning. Fantastically gorgeous. 

 

They finally reached Pete’s place, Mrs Shotton waiting in the kitchen with seven tall glasses of lemonade. Squeezing in their little shelter wasn’t an unusual thing but John was even more than normally conscious of Paul’s knee bumping against his, thighs touching as they tried to make sure their guitars didn’t hit each other. 

 

Paul wasn’t a shy lad, he was far from shy and that really came through when he sang. As he tried to get through The Girl Can’t Help It with the other lads, John just watched. Paul’s voice could do anything. He could do Elvis’s succulent silky tones yet also roughed it up to sing things like Little Richard and the like. 

 

“ _ If she walks by and the men folks get engrossed _ _   
_ _ She can't help it, the girl can't help it _ _   
_ _ If she winks an eye and bread slices turn to toast _ _   
_ _ She can't help it, the girl can't help it _ _   
_ _ If she's got a lot of what they call the most _ _   
_ __ She can't help it, the girl can't help it”  he warbled, completely mesmerising John.

 

He couldn’t take it anymore, Paul was everywhere, he could feel his leg, he could smell the sweet cologne he used engulfing his senses, even the fucking lyrics sounded as if they were written specifically about Paul. He had my heart in his Crosshairs now all he had to do was pull the trigger. 

 

“I’ll be in the bog.” He slipped out of the shelter, jogged his way across the garden and made his way to the lavatory. The second the door shut behind him, all sense of decency left him. Yes, this what’s Pete’s home and yes, Mrs Shotton was one of the more tolerable adults but, Jesus Christ! John desperately needed a wank. He squeezed out of his drainies and grabbed a handful of loo roll and was so close to giving himself some relief as he wrapped his hand around his dick. So close, but suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. 

 

“Hmghshs-Paul!!” John tried to pull up his jeans, using his hand to hide his Crown Jewels. But Paul looked unfazed and frustrated. 

 

“Seriously Johnny, what’s there to hide? It’s not as if you have a pair.”

 

“Oi!”

 

Paul rolled his eyes, locking the door, knowing better than John.

 

“If you had, you would’ve made a move earlier. How much more obvious could I be? I swear even Colin was looking at me funny.” 

 

“Obvious?! You planned all of this?” John’s mouth gaped as he looked incredulously at Paul. 

 

“Mostly, yeah. I’m sort of improvising here y’know, speaking of, you really should learn to lock your door. Now-“

 

“Wait, so, you’re queer?!” Paul, the flirtatious lad who could have any bird flooding her knickers with just a wink. Paul, the lad who could score with any lass. 

 

“No, yes, I don’t know! I still love skirt as much as the next guy y’know, don’t get me wrong, but…”

Paul looked as if he momentarily forgot why he was here, but then his eyes landed on John and his eyes became hungry. 

“Anyroad, do you want some help with that?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively earning a laugh from John. 

 

“Stupid question, but first,” John stepped closer, bringing his hand up to frame Paul’s face. “May I kiss you?”

 

“Finally! Some initiative!” 

 

Paul closed his eyes waiting for John to kiss him. The latter boy took a deep breath before cautiously grazing his lips against Paul’s. Paul, though, had other plans. He pressed back harder, winning a soft moan from John. Both of them decided separately not to go very far with that kiss. There wasn’t any tongue due to their lack of experience of kissing another lad. Knowing that just a shallow kiss wouldn’t be able to give John the release he craved, Paul settled on doing something he knew how to do. 

“Sit down, yeah” the dark haired boy gently pushed John down onto the ceramic.

 

His eyes shimmered with lust as he leaned over John, smirking down at the other boy whose eyes were wide with shock, still absolutely stunned. John was stiff as he sat at the edge of the closed toilet seat. 

 

“Bloody hell, Johnny, how have you survived all afternoon?!” Paul mummered against John’s lips. One hand behind John’s head keeping him from falling, the other fisted in John’s hair

 

John could barely think, let alone form an answer, so he just shrugged, still in awe of what was happening right in front of him. John wasn’t meant to get lucky. He wasn’t meant to have things going in his favour yet here he was, lips connecting with his best friend.Both had had their fair share of snogs but deep down, both were as nervous as a fresh pair of virgins. Paul’s fingers trailed down from John’s face, running down his chest then finally reached the older boy’s throbbing cock, he smirked into their kiss as John shuddered. Paul slid his hand down his shaft, giving it a gentle, long squeeze. He continued doing so, letting his calloused fingers trace against his dick, rubbing the precum around. 

 

“Didn’t know I could get you so hot and bothered..” 

 

Paul began pumping his cock faster, earning a gravelly moan to ease its way from John’s bruised lips. He gripped the back off the ceramic to steady himself but even still, his arms felt like cooked spaghetti but the fear of ruining the moment by falling was all John needed to keep himself up. 

 

Paul’s lips continued moving against John’s, tiny nibbles every now and then. They slotted together perfectly and though what they were doing was so, so wrong, it felt so incredibly right. 

 

John was close. To be honest, it really didn’t take much but the feeling of Paul’s hand rubbing, palming and sliding up and down his shaft was a feeling of rapture. 

 

“P-Paul-mhmm- ‘m close” he muttered through clenched teeth. Paul’s hands moved faster and it took less than a few seconds for John to spill all over Paul’s hand. He threw his head back as short haggard gasps left his mouth, splurges of come dripping from Paul’s hand. Paul turned to the sink to wash his hands and unbeknownst to John watching him, he kitten licked his finger just to taste. 

 

_ Maybe next time _

 

“What about you?” John asked, brushing his sweaty curls from his forehead. He looked utterly debaunched from just the handjob and it was a sight Paul could get used to seeing. 

 

“Maybe at home?” Paul smiled, hoping John would get the innuendo, and of course, he did. A wave of energy flooded the older boy who quickly pulled his underwear and jeans on, not caring about soiling them. He splashed water on his face, grabbed Paul’s wrist and tugged him out of the loo, pulling him along. 

 

“Steady there, tiger.” Paul laughed, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. 

 

“LENNON?! PAUL? WHERE YE GOING?” the other boys were standing around having a smoke in the garden. The two boys separated upon seeing them but their pace never faltered.

 

“GOT TO GO LADS! MIMI WANTS ME HOME!” 

 

“And What’s that got to do with Paul?”

 

“Oh...em, y’know…” 

 

The boys really didn’t know but shrugged it off because it was Johnandpaul and no one really understood Johnandpaul other than Johnandpaul themselves


	9. A Taste of Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from a taste of honey (obviously)

“Paul for fucks sake get up!” John straddled Paul’s curled up body, trying to stir the younger boy. 

 

“Gerrof John. It’s Saturday” Paul’s eyes stayed shut as he tried to pull the duvet over his head. 

 

“Yeah, and that doesn’t change shit.” John began to bounce making the skimpy bed creak and hit the wall. 

 

“Whadya want? If you want attention just crawl underneath the bloody blanket.” 

 

Paul manoeuvred himself so John was wrapped in Paul’s strong arms. Paul nestled his head in the crook of John’s neck, his arms wrapping around the older lads waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on John thick thighs. 

John was definitely tempted. Tempted to just lie in Paul's cozy arms and just drift off in the warmth of Paul's bare chest and perhaps something  _ unsavoury  _ would happen after. BUT NO. John was a man with a plan and he fucking craved cookies. It was Saturday and their college exams ended yesterday. It was time to celebrate and John had stocked up their dorm fridge with everything he needed to do so.

 

“I want to bake cookies, Paulie…” John walked his fingers up and down Paul's arm, occasionally pulling at the dark hair that made Paul so burly and irresistible. 

 

“Then go bake ye cookies and call me when they're done, love” Paul mummered against John's skin causing goosebumps to ripple all over.

 

“I want t’ bake with you! You've had your head in your books all month! I've-look Paul, I've forgotten what you look like! Bloody hell! I can't even remember whether you’ve got a nose or not!” John began fidgeting, twisting around to try and face Paul. 

 

He knew his plan was working when he felt rather than heard Paul chuckling. 

 

“Don’t be daft, Johnny.”

 

“So…?”

 

“Alright, alright! You win! You go get the stuff set up and I’ll go tidy myself up a bit and meet you in five, got it?”

 

John brought Paul’s palm to his lips, placing soft kisses against each knuckle, ecstatically. 

“I love you!”

 

John watched as Paul lugged himself to their bathroom. The younger lad let out an animalistic yawn while stretching his arms. As soon as he closed the door, John jumped up and pulled on a pair of flannel pajamas. He rushed to the kitchen and began pulling out the flour, eggs, cinnamon and all sorts of ingredients from the cupboard. He pulled open the drawer under the oven and slipped on a stripy red apron. 

 

“Well aren’t you the absolute picture of a housewife” 

 

Paul looked an absolute treat, standing in the doorway. John’s eyes trailed down from his still messy hair, down his chest, over his stomach, following the trail of hair that led to… the waistband of his sweatpants. 

 

“Shut up, gorgeous. Anyroad, I’m thinkin’ honey biscuits, yeah?”

 

“Sounds delicious, but you’re tastier, y’know” Paul wrapped his arms around John’s waist, pressing his lips into the spot he knew John loved.

 

“Mhmm...fuck Paulie...ugh...no wait! Wait! I don’t want to accidentally mix my cum into the batter!” John hesitatingly, begrudgingly pushed Paul away, but Paul was completely willing to jump off. 

 

“That’s disgusting! Actually...maybe not...whatever! You’ve woken me so let’s get to it.”

 

They sort of fell into a routine. Passing each other eggs, whisking batter, and measuring sugar. The small kitchen forced them to squeeze around each other but of course, neither of them minded rubbing against each other now and then. 

 

The batter was almost ready to be scooped into little balls and all that was left was for John to sift the flour in. But while he was doing so, Paul squeezed by, knocking his elbow and receiving a handful of flour in his chest, some of the powder getting stuck in the hairs scattering his skin. 

 

“So what? Are we going to become those couples who end up coating each other with flour?”

 

A smirk surfaced on John’s face, that made Paul dread his words and what would happen next. And what happened was a mini flour mushroom cloud exploded right in Paul’s face, coating his eyelashes and eyebrows and basically everything. 

 

“You’re fucking dead, Johnny” Paul growled making John’s smirk falter and a grin to stretch along his thin lips. 

 

They both alternated between grabbing and throwing flour while the other would try to duck or turn away. It wasn’t long before the pots and pans neatly organised in the cupboards were being used as shields and helmets. 

 

“John, I swear upon me life. Don’t you dare!” Paul had a firm grip on both of John’s arms. With a devilish smile, John pushed harder,  the three quarter empty bag was raised just above Paul’s head, on the verge of spilling but the doe eyed boy knew he was strong enough to withstand. 

 

Until John pushed his face closer rather than his arm. 

 

And John’s kisses were Paul’s hamartia. The auburn haired lad’s lips slotted in perfectly with Paul’s. They moved in sync, and soon, John’s lips parted, allowing Paul entry. His tongue flicked all over, every crevice was explored and the little whimpers emitting from John’s mouth made Paul weak. 

 

And the second Paul loosened his grip on John, the bag of flour washed over Paul turning every strand of hair and every inch of skin, white.

 

A thin mist clouded the kitchen as silence screamed. It was only when the dust settled when John and Paul started thinking maturely. 

 

“Um...Paul? We’ve kind of got a problem.” John bit his lip, looking around at the mess they made.

 

“Speak for yourself. I’ve got one helluva problem down here.”

 

“We’ll fix that later but right now, we’ve got no more flour.”

 

“And?”

 

“And we don’t have enough flour to finish the dough.”

 

To say they were content was an understatement. The two lads were nestled on the settee under the blanket they nicked from their bed, the bowl of raw cookie dough, wedged between their bodies, two spoons resting against the sides. John was deeply invested in his copy of Alice in Wonderland, his glasses framing his face. Paul’s head was in John’s lap, eyes closed, just listening to the sweet sound of Elvis flow from the turntable. Every now and then, John would get a spoonful of the sweet sludge and feed it to Paul who’d wait with his mouth open, and whatever remained on the spoon would be eaten by John. 

 

Days like this were extremely rare so both really savoured the feeling. Paul opened his eyes a crack and looked adoringly at John who was biting his lip, eyebrows furrowed. Getting up on his elbows, Paul placed a tender kiss on John’s unsuspecting lips. 

 

The kiss was meant to be chaste, and it started off as just that but once Paul pulled away, he was right back at it again as if he was physically unable to be without John’s lips upon his own. 

 

“Ye’ taste like honey, Honey.” John whispered against Paul’s lips although he could barely contain his laughter at his bad joke while Paul rolled his eyes at the pet name. 

 

“And strangely enough, you’re sweeter.”

 


	10. Here, There and Everywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Here There and everywhere (obviously)
> 
> This is the last one. Maybe I'll seperate each story see which one does best. I might write another collection. I hope my writing's been alright.

“...an epic shag, she was” John sat amidst the whole band, laughing and telling stories about where and when they shagged their girls. It all seemed perfectly normal. The lot of teenagers, hair slicked back, donned with leather and smirks, sitting at the booth, greasy chips and mugs of beer set out on the table. It should have been great fun but unfortunately Paul was not having it. 

 

What could he do about it though? While Paul was silently pining away for John, the latter lad was boasting about how he fingered a girl in the middle of the park. God, did he want to go home, just go home and drown himself in music and the warmth of his bed but, of course, he wouldn’t leave John- John who was leaning against him, swaying as the alcohol diffused into his veins. The hours ticked past and soon it was time for the lads to disperse.

 

“Eh, Macca. Do me a biggie and keep me away from that bloody hell hole!” John wrapped an arm around Paul’s shoulders, his breath absolutely toxic. 

 

“I’ve got to go home…”

 

“Yeah and take me with you! All mimi does these days are just nag, nag, nag! SAVE ME PAULIE, SAVE ME!” He collapsed on his knees, and clasped his hands together.

 

This wasn’t exactly what Paul had in mind when he dreamt of John on his knees, begging but he’d take it. 

 

“Alright then, Johnny boy, let's go.” Paul hoisted John to his feet and together they stumbled down street to forthlin road. 

***

“It’s nice y'know. Just you and me without those imbeciles.” John stumbled on the last steps, luckily falling into Paul's neatly tidied bed. 

 

“Imbeciles? Really?” Paul fetched a spare blanket, laying it onto the floor. “you seemed a perfect bunch of chums earlier” he grabbed a couple of shirts from his drawer and began stuffing them into a empty pillow case. 

 

“Aww, don't be jealous Paulie. You know you're my bestest mate."

 

Bestest mate. That would be as far as their relationship would get.

 

“Just go to sleep, Lennon.” 

 

“Whadya doin with the pillow?”

 

“Setting me bed up…”

 

“On the floor?”

 

“No johnny, on the top of the loo...Yes, on the floor.”

 

“You can’t sleep on the ground. What’s with the change all of a sudden. We’ve shared a bed before!”

 

“Yeah well…”

 

“No. No. You come up here. Either you move or I’ll drag y’up myself”

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

The answer apparently satisfied John and he quickly shut up his drunken rambling and soon, Paul noticed the slight, steady breaths emitting the older lad’s lips. Paul got up, opened the windows and had a smoke. His da’ hated the fact that he smoked but he really needed the fag after the whole hullabaloo.

 

It was getting harder for him everyday. It was as if John tied Paul’s heart in string and dropped it into a pot of boiling water to decoct all the love from it. He extracted it against Paul’s will but of course, It all belonged to him. All of Paul’s love belonged to John. He just wished the feeling was reciprocated. 

His lips fell a gap, letting a small puff of smoke drift and dissipate in the breeze. His eyes trailed up to meet the midnight ocean above, as if mirroring mood,the sky had no diamonds glittering and glimmering. 

The fact that there was a lack of stars at the first glance meant that Paul almost ignored the flash racing across the sky. 

 

Almost 

 

Without a thought that what he was doing was extremely childish, Paul immediately squeezed his eyes shut as he wished on the shooting star that had vanished into the night. 

 

“I wish that John would love me” he whispered to no one, his practically silent words swallowed by the wind.

 

Realising that he was being foolish for hoping something would happen suddenly, Paul stubbed out the smoke, closed the curtains and climbed into the tiny bed, trying to ignore the fact that John's feet were pressed into his shoulder.

 

Surprisingly enough, Paul didn't wake up that way. No, he woke up to an unusual warmth around him although the cold breeze fluttering through the open window normally kept him rather cool. However, he want complaining. In fact, he snuggled closer and the warmth tightened its hold on him. 

 

Wait…

 

Paul's eyes snapped open. His eyes were immediately drawn to the arm around his waist. He quickly noticed the warm breath that was tickling the back of his neck. And holy crap he felt...something hard ...poking his arse. Paul threw himself off the bed, landing on the floor then quickly scrambling to his feet. 

 

“Paulie? Come back” John’s gravelly voice, although muffled by the pillow they shared, sent shudders up Paul’s spine. And even though all Paul craved was to go back to the position he woke up to, his muscles were completely frozen. 

 

“Jesus. I’m sorry John! I didn’t realised I switched sides in my slee…” 

It immediately dawned on Paul that, in fact, he wasn’t the one who moved. No, it was John who moved so that they weren’t top and tailing anymore. 

 

“Stop apologising and just get back here” was the reply.

 

Things started clicking in Paul’s brain. It was ludicrous but the lad couldn’t help but believe it was true.

The star

The wish

Shit

 

“Bloody hell! I’ve put a spell on you!”

 

“Damn right you have. Now please, can we just lie here.”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Oh for Christ’s sakes!” John threw back the covers, grasped Paul’s hand and tugged him back into the bed, immediately throwing a leg over Paul’s thigh and snuggling down into Paul’s back. Paul couldn’t do anything. Not only because of the cage, John had wrapped around him but because he didn’t want to. This was exactly what he wanted. 

 

But nothing was genuine. No sincerity in John’s want. It was all some magical, mysterious spell. 

 

“Mimi’s not going to be happy about you staying here for too long, y’know. She already doesn’t like me.” 

 

“Oh please! Mimi could berate me all night long and even then, I’d still slip out of the front door and shimmy up the drainpipe just to spend the night with you.” John began pressing tiny kisses along the bumps of Paul’s spine, causing goosebumps to pop up. 

 

It sounded so real. But how, why would all these feelings only surface now. 

 

They lay there in reasonably comfortable silence, and slowly Paul began to relax in John’s hold. 

 

“FUCK, JOHN!”

 

“OH C’MON!”

 

John had begun (not) very subtly rubbing his crotch against Paul’s arse, trying to take care of his morning wood. 

 

“Pleeease, paulie. What am I supposed to do?! Wank off in the bog when you’re looking absolutely gorgeous and Jesus Christ! I’m in love with you, Paul and right now I reeaally need you.”

 

“You don’t love me.” Paul sighed

 

“I do!”

 

“No, Johnny, y’dont”

 

“I’ll prove it. I’ll prove it to ya and ye won’t be able to deny it!”

 

“What are you talking abo-“

 

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, MY DARLING, MY DEAREST; I LOVE YOU”

 

Paul tried to shove the pillow over John’s mouth.

“John, shut up” he hissed

 

“YOURE THE ONE, I HOLD NEAREST”

 

“you’ll wake me da’ if you carry on like that!”

 

“I LOVE YOU AND I WILL BET YOU LOVE ME TOOOO”

 

“What are you doing!?”

 

“I’m serenading you”

 

“Why?!”

 

“Coz ye’re a soft romantic and Ive got to prove that I love you.

 

“Christ…”

 

“Fine then. I’ll take you out for breakfast.”

 

***

 

“You’re beautiful, y’know that.”

 

Paul shoved the rest of the chip in his mouth and looked up at John who gazed endearingly at him. The boys decided that the all-day chippy was more their stream. 

 

“no...em nought” Paul tilted his face back to stop the food from falling from his mouth. “Birds,” he swallowed “ are beautiful.”

 

“Yeah, well, so are you.” John stretched over the booth to grab a handful of the greasy chips, laughing as Paul slapped his hand away. 

 

“You’ve got your own!”

 

“But I want yours!”

 

“They’re the same type of chip, John!”

 

“Look Paul, now that we’re lovers, we’ve got to share. What’s mine is your ands what’s yours is mine and all that.”

 

“Lovers?! John shut up! They’ll throw us in a cell if you keep saying that!”

 

“Hah! You didn’t deny it though!”

 

“John…”

 

“Fine, alright…”

 

***

 

John had asked if he could kiss him. He promised it would be quick and chaste. 

 

“No tongue, swear upon me heart” he made the cross against his chest.

 

He couldn’t do it. Paul couldn’t. The guilt was already eating up his insides. The old John would have never suggested something as...as...as queer as that. The look of rejection was blatant across John’s fallen face. 

 

“See ya, Paul”

 

John turned away, about to walk in the opposite direction, hands in his pockets while he scuffed his shoes against the ground. 

 

_ Don’t do it, Paul.  _

Every fibre in Paul’s body screamed

_ Don’t do it _

_ Don’t, for fucks sake, do- _

 

“JOHN WAIT!” He blurted out. 

 

John stopped, small smile on his lips. Paul awkwardly half jogged-half walked to where John was swaying on the balls of his feet. 

 

Paul looked around, eying one lady with her back turned. He quickly, hurriedly, suddenly got on his tiptoes and pressed his lips to John’s cheek. 

 

The blush travelled up from their toes and up their necks, then to their ears as if they were little cartoon characters. 

 

“See ya, John”

 

Paul watched as John made his way down the path, the widest smile on his face and, if Paul was looking closely enough, there was a spring in his step. 

 

***

Paul hadn’t seen John for the rest of the day but he had never left his mind. It had turned dark and Paul was ready to put the day behind him and fall asleep. Unfortunately the hard thwack against his glass told him that his plan wouldn’t go as smoothly. 

 

He hurriedly ran to the bathroom and threw open the window, almost catching a pebble with his eye. 

 

“Care for a guest? I seriously hope so, It’s as cold as a witches’ tit out here!”

 

“Come on, then.”

 

John manoeuvred his way around windows as he scaled the wall. Once he reached the window, Paul stretched out his arm for John to take, the latter boy reaching to grasp it. With a mighty pull, Paul yanked John through the window.

 

If Paul had been in a better headspace and if his foot was securely balanced on the porcelain, then perhaps things wouldn't have gone the way it did. But none of those were true and the momentum caused both of the boys to collapse on the hard tiled floor. 

 

“Heya”

 

“Hi John.”

 

“Hi”

 

“John?”

 

“Yes, Macca?”

 

“Get off me”

 

“Oh...right”

 

John untangled his limbs from Paul’s, trying to get up. All the while, Paul was chewing his lip, trying to stop himself for thinking about John’s knee that was right next to his barely clothed crotch. 

 

“I...er...got you these” John stuck out his hand, revealing a small handful of daisies. 

 

“I’m not a girl, John.”

 

“Yeah well, I don’t know how to woo a boy, okay?! I’m really trying here Macca.”

 

“Well...thanks.” Paul took the flowers, inspecting them as he put them in a jam jar by the window. It made him smile. A sad smile. John has fallen for multiple women and only women. This stupid spell had changed everything.

 

***

 

“What’s the chords for that Everly song?”

 

“Which?”

 

“All I have to do is dream”

 

“E innit? E, C sharp minor, B and em...A?”

 

John strummed the progression

 

“A then B”

 

“Oh right”

 

Paul lay on the bed, hands under his head, listening as John played his guitar. 

 

_ “Um...Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream _

_ Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream _

_ When I want you in...in my arms _

_ When I want you and all your charms _

_ Whenever I want you, all I have to do is- er... _

_ Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream _ ” 

 

John’s voice was one of Paul’s favourite things. Although a little nasally, it cut through the air and straight into Paul. 

 

“ _ When I feel blue in the night _

_ And I need you to hold me tight” _

  
  


Next were his hands. Beautiful. 

 

“ _ Whenever I want you, all I have to do is _

_ Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam” _

 

His mind drifted off and his eyes began to close. Paul was content. The sound of music drifted through the tiny room, making all of Paul’s senses tingle. 

 

“ _ I need you so that I could die _

_ I love you so and that is why _

_ Whenever I want you, all I have to do is _

_ Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream _

_ Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam” _

 

His daze was broken when he felt the bed dip. John had discarded the guitar and laid down beside Paul, their shoulders, hip and knees pressed against each other. The younger lad shifted, John copying his movement, so they faced each other, Only a breath apart. 

 

“Hey, Paulie” John’s breath fanned against Paul’s face

 

“Hey, Johnny”

 

Paul couldn’t help but stare at John’s lips. It would be so easy, So fucking easy, to lean forward an inch and just connect them. So close to doing what he’s been longing to do for what felt like forever. There was an internal tug-o-war between Paul’s heart and his brain. Everything Paul’s ever wanted was practically laid out for him. But what he was about to do was completely extemporised. He couldn’t have dreamt in his wildest dreams that he was about to do what he was about to do but it was

 

Absolute bliss. 

 

The pressure of John lips against his, the taste of smoke mixed with beer, everything, it completely overwhelmed his senses. The smell of teenaged boy, leftover cologne and something distinctly John filled his nose and it was absolutely intoxicating. John’s hands were all over him. First cupping his cheek, then tangling in his hair then the back of neck the. over his chest, settling on his waist for a little longer but finally resting on his lower back, pulling them closer. John was here, there and everywhere. The small moans were music to Paul’s ears as he subconsciously moved over John, the auburn lad sinking into the mattress while Paul straddled him. He almost to decided to finish what John started this morning. He almost let the fire burning in his crotch to make his decisions.

 

“Stop- wait- mmm- no John I can’t!”

 

“Please Paul, please!”

 

“No this is a dream! I’m going to wake up and it’s going to hurt. Going to hurt real bad!”

 

“This isn’t a dream, you fucking git! I’ll do anything for you! Anything! I’d- I’d fucking marry you right here, right now!” 

 

The adjuration seemed to make no difference on Paul who ran his hands through his bed-head styled hair. 

 

“John-“

 

“I want to stay with you  till we we’re old and grey and bitter, i want to hold your gnarled paper skinned hand with my own. Will you, James Paul McCartney, marry me?” John was down on one knee, a never before seen look of a desperation on his face. 

 

“But we can’t! For a billion reasons! Even if we do ignore the fact that it’s completely illegal, you don’t-“ Paul’s voice broke “you don’t love me! It’s all a spell! Last night, I was at the window and I sa-“

 

“Saw a shooting star and you wished that I’d fall in love with you! I know! Which is why I’m so fucking bloody confused!”

 

“You heard!?”

 

“I said that didn’t I? I heard you! Jesus, Paul, I’ve been in love with you since the fucking fete! But you’re Paul McCartney! You’re the bird puller king. Sure, you barely mentioned any girls but surely you had someone.”

 

“You can’t speak, you’ve got another girl every weekend, not to mention you going steady with Cynthia!”

 

“That’s because I couldn’t have you! But then all of a sudden you want me to fall in love with you so I let myself fall all proper and the sort and all you do is push away and it’s killing me, you talking about spells and all that rubbish!”

 

“I’m so stupid”

 

“Sorta…”

 

“I can’t believe your proposed to me.” Paul offered an amused smile making John blush, rubbing the back of his nape. 

 

“Yeah well...I can’t believe you shut me down.”

 

“Maybe one day...but for now, please can we get back to earlier?”

 

“Baby, I’ve been waiting for this since I first laid eyes on ye.”


End file.
